She drifted between groups as if assigned to float. When she reached the mic for her scripted thank-you, she didn’t glance at her cards. Elise knew how to make her voice bend into whatever shape the room wanted.
“On behalf of the student committee,” she began, posture perfect, “thank you to our sponsors and families for making this possible. It’s an honor to be part of a school that believes in legacy.”
Legacy. The word lodged.
Her gaze slid across the gym and brushed mine, not a touch so much as a mark. “And thank you for trusting us.”
The last two words tasted poisoned.
During the run-through, she lifted the mic, casual as breathing, and smiled out at the rows of students. “Events like these,” she said, “take commitment. Hours behind the scenes. Trust. And it only works if everyone is… honest.” Her pause was deliberate. Long enough for heads to turn, short enough she could claim she hadn’t meant anything by it.
I felt the shift ripple through the space. Theo’s shoulders went a fraction tighter. Chase’s jaw flexed. Jax leaned forward in his seat, expression flat as steel. A whisper skated down the bleachers, quick and sly. Heads bent together, phones angled low.
Elise only smiled brighter, as if she hadn’t just lobbed a grenade into the middle of the room.
Luke stepped forward from the shadows at the edge of the bleachers and walked, not rushed, across the gym floor. He didn’t take the stairs to the stage. He took the short leap up, smooth, faced the mic, and put his hand over it so his voice wouldn’t boom. He didn’t look at Elise. He looked at Principal Miller. “We need to pause.”
Heads turned at once. Teachers straightened. One of the sponsors frowned.
Elise’s smile barely flickered. “We’re on a schedule, Luke.”
“We’re not.” He took Elise’s phone off the podium and locked the screen. Small enough to look petty. “You wanted honesty?” His voice carried, flat and even. “Here it is.” He held the phone up then passed it to Principal Miller. “There’s a doctored thread on this device that frames a student for leaking sponsor information. The originals are already with administration. This is a formality.”
His voice carried without effort, tempered steel instead of heat. The gym heard every syllable. He didn’t hide behind his last name. He didn’t have to. He stood in its center and used it as a shield for me.
Principal Miller scanned the lock screen as if it might bite. The gala adviser reached for it then pulled her hand back. The vice principal had materialized at the edge of the stage without footsteps, pulled by the gravity of crisis.
Elise laughed under her breath, a small, dismissive exhale. “You think you can take my personal device and?—”
“Enter it into review?” Luke kept his tone even. “Yes.”
Her gaze cut to me and sharpened. For a breath, I saw the razor-sharp edge underneath the gloss. Then the mask slid back into place. “If my phone gets reviewed, so does hers.”
“That was already the plan.” Luke didn’t look away. “But the originals came from your device. And before you argue metadata, those logs are printed too.”
Murmurs rolled through the bleachers—not the messy kind Elise spread but contained by the Luke’s authority and the weight he carried.
Principal Miller cleared his throat into the mic. “We’re going to pause the run-through. Advisers and committee leads, please step into the auxiliary room. Students, remain seated.”
The gym loosened in an instant, and at the same time, a different tension sparked everywhere at once. Clusters formed and re-formed. Eyes slid to me then away.
I watched Elise step down from the stage, every movement measured. Her attention landed on me as she passed, lingering long enough for the room to notice.
Luke’s shoulders squared, his stare locked on hers. Theo’s gaze tracked her, cold and steady. Chase’s expression hardened, warning clear in every line of him.
I didn’t flinch. I kept my face still.
I felt a pull backward in my ribs, the old urge to run when rooms turned. I took one step toward the door before Jax appeared in my path, not blocking but present. The look he gave me said“Stay”without moving his mouth. Theo took the other side. Two quiet bookends. Close enough to be seen. Far enough not to crowd.
I held. My knees locked and then eased. Luke hopped down from the stage and cut across the floor through a path that opened for him without anyone admitting they had moved. He reached me and stopped so we were chest to chest, and the rest of the gym fell away.
“You okay?” His voice dropped, meant for me alone.
“Trying to be.”
His knuckles brushed my shoulder, a brief tap that buzzed through my nerves. “You’re not on your own in this.”
“Thank you.” Two words that carried more than they should.
